I'm Still Here
by Xany Kaos
Summary: The story of Toad's past, his life in the orphanage, how he learned martial arts, met the one person who ever cared about him, fell in with Magneto, and most importantly of all...how he got that earring! Well, no, prolly not the latter. But still. I pr
1. Default Chapter

Alright, new story. Funny, I hadn't meant to write this, but the more I wrote "A Second Chance" the more Toad's past started to kind of work itself out for me. So now, I guess I'll have to write it. I think I'm gonna like this one better; I always feel so guilty about having a self-style character hooking up with Mortie. Don't worry, plenty of angst in this one, I promise.

The title, first of all, is from the Goo-Goo Doll's song "I'm Still Here." It was on the Treasure Planet movie, so if you've never heard it, go watch that movie, cuz it rocks and the sequence with the song is really really well done. The song played the other day while I was trying to work this story out and it suddenly all clicked. The lyrics to the song can be found at . 

Um, so this is the first chapter, not a lot of action yet, just sort of setting things up. Ah, I should be working on my portfolio now! Bad Laura!

'Nuff Author's notes! Toad and X-stuff (c) Marvel Comics. Not mine. No $$.

  
  


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"Well, everything seems to be in order, Brother Felix." The old priest smiled across the desk as he tapped the pile of papers into a neat stack and placed them in a folder in a long drawer of files. When he had finished, he smiled again and reached his hand out to the younger man. "Welcome to St. Augustine's Home for Orphaned Boys." The younger man stood and took it with a friendly, if somewhat apprehensive, smile.

"Thank you, sir. When do my classes start?" He spoke with a slightly Irish lilt, somewhat diminished over more than a decade of living in England. The old priest chuckled.

"Eager to start, I see. Well, Monday's as good a day as any. Gives you the weekend to get to know the boys out of class."

"Yes sir." The monk paused, then asked cautiously. "And the other class, sir?"

The older priest sighed and adjusted his glasses.

"I still do not wholly approve of this, Brother Felix. It still seems to me a violent, and unnecessary practice, which I do not believe the children need."

"Sir, I assure you, the point of martial arts is only to teach discipline and self-control. Many of these boys have so much anger--they need an outlet of some kind--"

"Prayer is always a good outlet."

"Sir..." The two men met each other's eyes and sighed. They held few illusions about the boys at the orphanage, Father Anton even less than Felix. At last, he nodded.

"Very well. I admit I have heard it has done some good in other Homes. You have a period before lunch when you are not teaching. If you wish to bring some of the boys into the gym, then I suppose we'll see how it works."

"Thank you, sir." Brother Felix beamed. He half-bowed once, then caught himself with a sheepish grin, and started out of the small room. Father Anton's voice stopped him.

"Oh, and Brother Felix... You have heard of our...little problem?"

"Problem, sir?" Felix frowned.

"One of our...charges," the priest said darkly. "He is...different than the other boys."

"Mentally challenged, sir?" Felix asked, puzzled.

"Possibly. But no. I was referring to his..." The priest's mouth worked, twisting with some distaste. "He is a mutant."

Brother Felix blinked, and his face went blank. He nodded slowly.

"Ah. I understand." He opened the door. "Yes, Father, I had heard as much."

"Very good then, Brother Felix. At any rate, you probably won't run into him. I just wanted to make sure you were...properly warned."

"Thank you sir, but as I said, I have heard." Shutting the door behind him, Felix frowned thoughtfully and stared into a corner. "That's why I came."


	2. What do you think you'd ever say?

Wow! I'm sorry about how long it took for this to get updated. Thanks everyone for the encouragement, and thanks Lonely Shadow Knight for a much needed kick in the pants. To AngelFish2: Yes ma'am, right away, ma'am, won't happen again, ma'am *eyes the flamethrower nervously* ...Yeah...this was kinda hard to write- I hate set-up. I also hate explaining martial arts stuff, because I'm a big believer in "show-don't tell" when it comes to writing. That, and I've got several other scenes that won't exists until the far future running through my head. Anyway...this should get semi-intresting soon enough. It should also be more Mort-centric in the comic chapters.

Title-Lyrics to the song "I'm Still Here" by the Goo Goo Dolls. Line goes-"What do you think you'd ever say, I won't listen anyway." Go listen to the song. It's happy.

Um..martial arts...a dojo is the building you train in, a sensei is an instructor, and a black belt is the mark of a master. (Or, in my case, someone who's just stubborn). Ray Parks practices Wu Shu and Tae Kwon Do as far as I know, and I added Shotokan to the mix just so there'd be a style I knew something about (write what you know). And copywrites...  
  


Toad isn't mine, he belongs to the lovely people at Marvel, who have, of late, made him look like a Hispanic Mechanic (but he's skinny and likes LotR, so I don't mind to much), and most recently*shudder* - Elton John (see New X-men. or don't, if you'd rather not spent your nights picturing E.J. with a four-foot-long lounge...man, if I ever get to be a penciled at Marvel, Mort is SO getting an image over-haul).

...Ahem...anyway...on with the story.

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Felix finished unpacking the last of the items from the two cardboard boxes that contained all of his worldly goods and sat on the bed, eyeing the his small cell. He sighed. While the size of the room was considerably larger than the one he had had at St. Genevieve's, he couldn't help noticing the empty spaces on his bookshelf. Most of his books he had left behind at his last post. His fingers traced longingly over the spot next to "The Five Rings" where "Ireland: a History" had once sat. Ah well, the boys at the old school would make better use of the books, And anyway, he thought with a rueful grin, it's not as if I don't have half of them memorized, sure enough. He glanced down in the box. Well, there was one more thing to unpack. He slowly lifted a bubble-swarthed rectangle from the bottom of the smaller box and carefully unwrapped it. As the last of the popable plastic wound away, two boys stared up at him from within the picture from. The taller one, with his shock of dark, ruddy hair, was unmistakably a younger Felix O'Toole. But the other...strange orange eyes, squinting in pleasure, but never blinking, laughed up at him from an oddly colored face that only barely passed for humanoid. The smaller boy sat on Felix's shoulders and both were laughing. Brother Felix grinned back at the two boys with a touch of sadness and reverently set the picture on his bedside table, next to his nightstand.

"I miss you, Marty."  
  


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The weekend was rather uneventful. For the two days, he could feel many different pairs of youthful eyes on him: some curious, some excited, several bored, and just a few...wary. He smiled and shrugged it off. Soon the novelty of being "the new Brother" would wear off and he would simply be Brother Felix, the History teacher. Except to a few, to whom he would be known as --and he smirked here, remembered whispers of old pupils-- "Brother Sensei, the Military Monk from Hell!" He smiled, delighted at the prospect of molding young minds and bodies, teaching the boys how to think and act for themselves, shaping them into young men who could be proud of themselves, who would know their worth. While they took their meals in the cafeteria, he cast an eye over the squirming, muttering boys, wondering which would join his extra classes. And, more importantly, which ones would stay. There were so many. At least, so many more than there had been at St. Genevieve's. He searched for the ones that looked defiant, angry, scared. But secretly, he searched for one face amid the crowd, a face that he didn't know, but one that he knew he would recognize the instant he saw it.

Brother Felix searched for the mutant boy.  
  


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"So for Wednesday, a one-page summary of chapter one in your History books. I've posted a list of times that you can come in to use the books." A collective muttering rose from the boys as they eagerly moved to the door. "Not just yet." Felix barred the escape of his second class of the day. The children looked up at him, annoyed and doing their best to show that the new teacher didn't scare them, even if he did look like he could break any one of them in two.

"I wanted to let you know that I am holding an...extra class. You can take it to replace your current gym class. And..." he added, sensing limited enthusiasm, "Any boy who attends my extra class and works hard gets an automatic two-point curve on his tests." One lad, with a practiced expression of boredom, raised his hand.

"What kind of a class?" Brother Felix smiled.

"Martial Arts."  
  


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The gym was ancient and musty, with dim floresents flickering overhead, humming drowsily as they cast minimal light over the scarred, wooden bleachers and the scratched-up floor. Felix paced the floor under the basketball hoop that had long since been deprived of net, watching the dustmotes dance in the rays of sunlight that filtered from some of the windows he'd managed to get open, his thumbs casually hooked behind the frayed black belt he wore over a white gi, and sighed. Well, it was better than trying to train them in a classroom. Briefly he considered the merits of training them outside. But since the main playground area was more gravel than grass he deigned against it. Maybe if the class size dwindled after the first few weeks... He glanced again at the clipboard of names. Twenty-eight boys had signed up--a surprisingly high number that he knew better than to expect. But he could hope. He chewed on a knuckle thoughtfully and wondered if he could convince the abbot to grant him one more period so that he could split them into classes of fourteen.

A soft scurrying sound from behind the bleachers in the far back distracted him. He looked up and peered into the dusty shadows.

"Hullo?" he called softly. There was no response. Curious now, he walked slowly toward the sound. Had he just imagined it?

"Brother Felix!" He turned his head at the call. A young, nervous-looking boy...Thomas, yes, that was it, was standing at the doors of the gymnasium, several other boys behind him. "Can we come in, sir?" Felix smiled and nodded, welcoming the first of his new students into the dojo.  
  


"The first thing I'd like to do," Brother Felix boomed, pacing in front of the fidgeting ranks, his quiet voice and demeanor left behind, "is introduce m'self to y'. I'm sure by now, many of you know me as 'Brother Felix' but I worked hard for this," he patted his well-worn belt possessively, "and I was a Sensei long before the Good Lord called me to a life of devout chastity." He paused for a moment to strike a pious pose, causing many of the boys to giggle. Without missing a beat, he moved back into a drill sergeant mode. "So, from the moment you set foot in this building, you are to refer to me as 'Sensei' or," he considered, "'Brother Sensei,' I suppose, if Father Abbot comes in.

"Now, I promise y', boys, I'm not teaching a pansy little gym class. From now until 11:45, your mine, and I expect y' all ta work hard. If y' have any problems or questions, don't hesitate to ask. I don't bite. Anyone?" A larger boy raised his hand.

"So, is this karate or wot?" Felix smiled.

"I'm glad you asked that...?"

"Brad."

"Brad. No, this isn't karate. This is kind of like a bast--" Felix paused a moment, trying to readjust the way his old sensei had described his schooling. "The school under which I studied taught a mixture of styles: Tae Kwon Do, Wu Shu, Shotokan. So you'll get the opportunity to learn something about each and find what suits you best. Tae Kwon Do focuses on kicking and technique; Wu Shu is something like gymnastics...only deadly." He grinned. "And Shotokan is more focused on just fighting. But I suppose you might as well just call it 'karate' for the sake of understanding."

The question-answer session went on for a few more minutes until Felix decided that the boys were now stalling. He clapped his hands loudly.

"Alright, boys. Let's start with some stretches."

He lead the class through their first exercises, unaware of a pair of dark yellow eyes that watched warily from the shadows.  
  
  
  


By the end of the week, nine of the boys had decided to go back to regular gym class rather than suffer through another lesson of stretching and techniques. Two others had signed-up Felix's class, shy, small boys from his History class that he had coaxed into joining. He was fairly satisfied with his class as it was, and more than pleased with the progress of his remaining students. But he still had yet to meet the mutant boy who's existence had been the catalyst for his coming.

"Brad, while I admire your intensity, for now I'd like you to focus a little more on form and technique." Felix demonstrated the correct technique to his husky pupil and nodded as the boy imitated in a more passable manner. "Very good. You need a strong foundation to build your skills on." As he walked on to the next student, he made a mental note to watch Brad Ryans more closely. The boy was growing tired of going through the disciplined motions and kept asking about when they were going to start "real fighting." Felix was beginning to suspect his enthusiasm. "Excellent, Thomas. Keep it up." He stood in front of the class again.

"Now I'd like you to try a double-round-house-kick." He demonstrated a technique that would be difficult, but not impossible, for the beginners to do, kicking two separate imaginary targets without putting his foot down. "It's a balance trick. Kick to the knees first," he kicked low, balancing on his left leg, "Then go for the head." He kicked high enough to make most of his students wince. "Just go as high as you can. One!"

"Uu-SAH!" His students shouted, trying to preform the move. Several wobbled and fell over. Few got the second kick higher than their waists.

"Two!"

"Uu-SAH!"

"Three!"

"Uu--" A loud clang came from the far end of the bleachers, startling students and teacher alike. All eyes turned to the back of the gym.

"Hey, it's--"

"Eyes front, Mr. Ryans!" Felix called out, commanding the return of his student's attention. "Three!"

"Uu-SAH!"  
  


At the end of the class, Felix was approached by Thomas, who needed help with a series of techniques. Just as he was about to explain the first to the boy, he noticed Brad stumping toward the back of the gym.

"Come see me before class Monday, Thomas. I...I have to take care of something," muttered Felix, distracted. Thomas nodded and left the gym as Felix quietly walked to the end of the bleachers.

"I see ya hidin' there, ya scummy li'l toad. Wot ya fink yer doin', 'angin' 'roun 'ere?" Between the planks, Felix could see Brad grab someone from under the bleachers and yank him out. "Ya wanna take classes, issat it, ya stinkin' mut--"

"Mr. Ryans." Felix's voice, though quieter than the one he used as a Sensei, had lost none of its firm, commanding tone. He stepped around the bleachers to see Brad holding a scrawny child rather roughly by the arm. The smaller boy's face was obscured by ragged dark hair. It was difficult to tell in the shadows, but something about his skin didn't look...right. Brad's eyes widened as he turned to the Sensei, dropping the boy's arm. "What is going on here?"

"Nuffin, Sensei...sir. 'S just the Toad." The boy jerked his head dismissively at the small boy who now crouched, shoulders hunched, carefully studying a far corner, as if the two people in front of him did not exist. Felix's mouth set in a thin line.

"'The Toad?'"

"Yah. E's the one wot made that noise. E's a ret, y'know. Some o' the Brothers, they think he's deaf, but really, e's just stupid. Don' worry 'bout 'im, sir. 'E's not s'post ta be 'ere. I'll take 'im back t'the dorms." He made a quick grab at the other boy's arm with barely disguised viciousness. Felix put out a gentle but firm hand to stop him.

"That's alright, Brad," he said quietly, his eyes hard. "I'll take care of him. You go to lunch." The husky boy stared at him for a moment, then dropped his gaze and nodded.

"Yes'sir."  
  


When he was gone, Felix squatted in front of the boy Brad had named as "the Toad," trying to make eye contact. It wasn't working. The boy's sallow face was slack, his eyes hooded and disinterested, dully looking at the floor far away from the monk. His shoulders were hunched protectively almost to his ears. Felix wondered briefly if the boy really was mentally retarded or autistic--certainly there was nothing on his face to suggest any interest or even acknowledgment of his surroundings.

"Hullo there. I'm Brother Felix." Felix waited for a moment, but got no response, no evidence that the boy had even heard him. He tried again. "You must be Mortimer." A quick shift of the eyes, caught before he looked up at the man. Felix smiled. Maybe this boy wasn't as disconnected as he appeared. "I've been wanting to meet you." Nothing. "What were you doing back here?" A more closed, guarded look passed over the boys face, and his gaze slid as far away from the monk as it could go. Felix frowned thoughtfully. Fear. A secret being guarded. With a smile he leaned forward.

"Would you like to study karate in my class?"

The boy's head jerked up slightly, and his eyes briefly lost their guarded look as they widened and flickered up to the man. In their wide, wet depths, Felix could see hope warring with fear. Then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. The closed expression settled back on his face and his eyes became flat and dull. Carefully, Felix reached out a hand, trying to make it harder for the boy to ignore him. The child flinched away, tucking his head to his chest. Felix frowned.

"I'd like it if you would join my class, Mortimer." From beneath lank, ragged hair, he saw the boy's eyes flicker back up at him. Felix smiled again. No, there was nothing stupid about this child. "Would you like that?" Mortimer raised his head slightly, eyeing Felix with smouldering distrust and defiance. "I'll be here before lunch tomorrow. Why don't you come so we can get you up to speed with the rest of the class, okay?" The boy's expression didn't change and Felix had a feeling that nothing more was going to get through today. He stood up. "I'm glad I could meet you, Mortimer, and I hope you decide to come." He walked away, noticing the wary way that the mutant child's eyes followed him out.

Once he had made it back to his cell, Felix dropped to his be with a loud, rushing sigh. The orange eyes gleamed at him from the photograph, and he managed to summon up a small smile in return.

"Oh, Marty...This is going to be harder than I thought."


	3. Want to Touch Things I Don't Feel

Oh, look! It's a double update. Yup. Just because I realized how much I wanted to write this whole trilogy. Among other things. And I told myself I wouldn't let me write my Otto/Rosie fic or the other Ultimate U one I have in mind until I'd made some headway. I'm mean…

Toad © Marvel. Felix © me. Um…dang, I keep talkin' martial arts here. Oh, and about Felix…my guess is his accent gets a bit thicker when he slips into Sensei mode…not sure why…or at least, I was, but then I forgot. But it made sense at the time. Oh, um, lyrics are once again from the GooGoo Doll's "I'm Still Here."

* * *

That Saturday, Brother Felix paced nervously under the rusted basketball hoop, rubbing the back of his head nervously. Would the boy show up? He doubted it. But still...still, he so _hoped_ that this child, this Mortimer would come to him. From the little of the boy that he had seen, it had become painfully obvious that the mutant child desperately needed _someone_ who could help him. Someone who gave a dmn about his existence. The boy looked as though he'd never been touched kindly once in his whole life. Felix's fist clenched when he remembered the way the boy had shied from his outstretched hand--he was _conditioned_ to expect pain. Memories of Marty, fleeing to the safety of their home with a bloodied lip and bruised face came to mind, followed by ones of Felix storming out in righteous elder brother wrath to revenge his sibling, blood for blood for blood. Felix smiled grimly, then sighed and rubbed his face dejectedly. Yes, those methods were...well, not fine, but they worked when you were thirteen years old and didn't have to set an example. He could hardly beat up children, nor would he want to. And while he was fairly certain that while corporal punishment was still in effect under the old school styles of Father Anton, he was equally certain that the monks were turning a blind eye to the children's cruelty toward the little mutant boy.  
He stopped pacing and peered across the dimly lit gymnasium. Fifteen minutes. He'd been waiting fifteen minutes. No. The boy wouldn't show. Felix sighed again and turned to leave. Just as he got to the doors, he heard a soft scuffling and stopped. Turning very slowly, he squinted in the general direction of the noise. Two slightly glowing eyes stared up at him from one of the shadows near the bleachers. Felix smiled. He liked being wrong, on occasion.  
"Hello Mortimer." The shadow scurried away briefly, then stepped forward, hesitant but determined. Mortimer stopped a good ten feet away from Felix, glaring at him out of the corner of his eye, his slouching posture tensed, about to run at any threatening moves. Felix approached cautiously and paused when the boy flinched back. He'd closed the distance by at least half and decided that was enough. He held his hands behind his back in a nonthreatening manner and smiled kindly. "Would you like to learn?" The boy's eyes slid away and he drew a long deep breath. His gaze remained fixed on the shadows of the wall, except for brief, constant flickers back toward the monk. His hand clenched and he stood very, very still for a moment, then nodded once, shortly. Felix's grin broadened, and he extend a hand in a welcoming gesture. "Well, all right then." The boy shot him a look of fear, and Felix stopped, confused. He replayed his words carefully, trying to find the threat in them. Was the boy just certain that if anyone took notice of him, it would be to cause him pain? Felix frowned, then quickly resumed a more open expression. He stood up straighter and hooked his thumbs behind his belt.  
"Well, then, y'first lesson is t' stand up straight and face th' sensei." The boy's head cocked and an expression of angry confusion played across his face. Felix fixed him with a steady gaze. "It's a matter o' respect. All o' Martial Arts is; it's about respecting others and earnin' their respect in return, an' that starts very simply by you standin' up straight an' lookin' yur sensei in' th' eye." The boy's gaze slid to the floor again and he gnawed at his lip in thought for a moment. Finally, he moved carefully, shifting his feet around until he was standing facing Felix, feet spread, holding his hands behind his back. His shoulders were hunched over and he still glared up through his filthy hair--Felix spared a quick though about trying to cut it sometime soon.  
"Head up, lad. Y'stan' tall an' proud in my class." The boy immediately raised his chin defiantly, eyes blazing up at the monk. Felix nodded in satisfaction. Oh yes. There was such a fire hidden in this boy's dark, gold eyes. Did no one else see it? "Tha's right. Now, at th' start o' every class, y'bow. Feet t'gether, hands at yur side. Like this." Felix demonstrated quickly, and was pleased to see that, after a moment's hesitation, the boy copied him. "Very good. Next part o' class is the stretches, which I'm sure you've seen. They're important, even if they don't look like much. They keep you flexible and help make sure y'don't pull a muscle. So before y'do any kind o' exercise, y'stretch. Got it." The boy nodded again, that same short, jerky movement.  
Felix lead Mortimer through the stretches, and was pleased to find that the boy had indeed been paying attention to the classes and remembered most of them. He was also remarkably flexible, almost able to do a full split. With a little training, Felix thought, the kid could be a regular gymnast. He couldn't help but notice that the whole time, Mortimer's eyes followed his every move with a wary survival instinct. Any time he moved too quickly, the boy would flinch away. He also noticed, even in the poor light, that below his left eye there was a purple-greenish discoloration on his already oddly colored skin, and wondered if it had been the price the boy had paid for being caught spying on the class on Friday.  
"Right, I think that we're stretched enough for now." The boy sprang up at attention. "Why don't we work on blocking next," suggested Felix, eyeing the bruise grimly. Mortimer gave no indication one way or the other, merely waited for Felix to instruct him. "I want you to get into a forward stance. That's means--" he broke off as Mortimer quickly assumed the requested position, fists up as Felix had shown his class. Felix grinned. "Excellent. You certainly are a fast learner." Mortimer blinked and looked suspicious of the praise. "Now," continued Felix, circling around the boy, but keeping his distance," you want to keep your back leg straight. And spread them out a little bit more. You need a deep, wide stance so that you'll have good balance." He slid into the proper stance and Mortimer copied him. "Very good. Now, a simple down block..." The boy's right fist shot to his ear while he placed his left fist firmly by his side. Felix nodded. "That's right. It has to come from your ear. If it comes from any lower," he demonstrated weakly, "then your block won't have enough power. Now, show me a downward block." Mortimer complied silently. "Good. Again." ... "Again." ..."Once more."..."Excellent. Now, that's the official block that you would use in most basic forms, but if it were a real fight, what do you think you'd be blocking with a downward block?" Mortimer glared at him, still silent. Felix waited a moment, then continued. "In a real fight, a downward block would be used to stop a kick. And if you stop a kick with a tight arm, you'll just wind up with a broken arm. So if it's a real situation, you block with an open hand, like this." Mortimer followed the monk's movements. "Good. On the count then. One." ..."Two." ... "Three..." The only sound Mortimer made was a sharp hiss of breath as he preformed his blocks. On the tenth count, Felix stopped. "You're getting the hang of it. Do y' know how to do an upper block?" The boy nodded, this time slightly more animatedly, and preformed the move. "That's about it, but..." Felix was at Mortimer's side before the boy knew it, his hands on both the boy's arms, positioning them. "Never show yur veins, an' your top arm comes up at an angle, so the punch'll slide off t'th' side. An' yur legs've gotten a bit slack, so straighten this one up more." He moved the boy's limbs to the correct positions and paused. Beneath his fingers, Mortimer was trembling. He had dropped his head and hunched his shoulders protectively, eyeing the monk with fear and confusion. He let go, and the boy's arms dropped to his side as he just stared up at Felix, with an unreadable expression on his face. He shied away for a moment and Felix wondered if he was going to bolt. After a very long, tense wait, still never taking his eyes from Felix, Mortimer resumed his forward stance and slowly raised his arm into the correct position, his eyes clearly asking "Am I doing this right?" Felix blinked, and smiled, a slow deep grin of relief and satisfaction.  
"Yes, Mortimer. Exactly like that." 


	4. They don't know me

Huh, I'm back. Funny, most o'my AN's start with that. Well, I'm in an art slump, and Mort's been buggin' me saying if I can't draw him, I should darn well be writing about him, so here it it...

Toad/Mortimer (c) Marvel Comics. And it goes without saying that I make no money off of this...(in fact, I think I'm _losing_ money, seeing as how I should be using this time to do something productive...)

* * *

It was late Monday afternoon, just as the sky was starting to darken, when the boys had a free hour before supper and evening prayers. Brother Felix had arranged for Mortimer to meet him in the gym, and was pleased to find the boy already there stretching when he arrived. They had had another session the day before, and while Mortimer still had not spoken a word, he was proving to be as apt a pupil as Felix could have hoped for. Indeed, he hadn't thought that the mutant boy he had come to help would have been anything more than standard, if that--his only goal had been to reach out to a child in need, to make up for past failures--but Mortimer's sharp eyes followed his every move, and his small body was quick to copy what he saw. Felix smiled as he lead the boy through a series of basic punches and kicks. There was a fire to him, as if for the first time, he'd been given something all his own, and he every intention of keeping it.

"...And ten. Excellent, Mortimer," Felix said warmly. Mortimer glanced up at him with an expression that was almost, but not quite, a smile. It was certainly better than the dour look the child had worn the first day Felix had seen him. "I think you're ready to start learning the basics of a kata." The boy cocked his head with a questioning look, and, not for the first time, Felix wondered if maybe he _couldn't_ speak. "I haven't gotten to katas with the rest of the class; you'll be the first to learn them, but I believe you can handle it." Mortimer stood up just a bit straighter, a light of pride in his eyes. "Now, a kata is like an imaginary fight, or a dance. There are specific motions you have to do in a certain sequence." The boy looked confused again. "Well, suppose I told you to do a downward block, a walk-in punch, and a downward block." Mortimer eagerly preformed the requested moves. "Good. You just did the first part of Hien One, the first kata. Well...more or less."

They spent the next thirty minutes covering how to turn correctly and which moves went where, and by the end of the class Mortimer had learned the first third of the kata, if a bit shakily. Felix sat down on a dusty bleacher and handed Mortimer a water bottle, which he took after only a moment's hesitation.

"Drink up, lad. If you do this sort of thing without drinking lots and lots of water, you'll make yourself sick." Mortimer drank, still eyeing Felix distrustfully over the top of the bottle. Felix rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Well, lad, th' point of these lessons was t'bring you up to speed with th' rest o' th' class, and I'd say y've passed most of them up by now." Mortimer lowered the bottle, and Felix could see a sort of dread creep into the child's eyes. "So I think it's time you started coming to th' group lesson." Mortimer recoiled, dropping the water bottle as he scrambled to get up. He backed away, his shoulders hunching into his old position of protection, shaking his head, his eyes pleading and angry. "Mortimer--" Felix started to stand up, then thought the better of it. He seated himself calmly, hands folded in his lap, and fixed his eyes on the boy's. "Mortimer, what are you afraid of?" The boy didn't say anything, but his eyes darkened, more angry now, and a bit ashamed. Felix closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "Mortimer, you can't let them make you afraid. You do want to keep learning, don't you?" Mortimer lowered his gaze, and nodded, just barely. Felix stood and very carefully walked over to him, then put a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. Mortimer didn't meet his eyes. "And I want to keep teaching you. But this sneaking about won't go over well with the abbot or anyone else--and you _deserve_ to be in a class with everyone else, to be able to learn with everyone else." Felix paused "I _want_ you to come to my class, Mortimer. I won't make you, and if you still want to meet like this, I'll still teach you. But I want you to come to my class." He crouched down and stared into the boy's eyes. "Nothing can change here unless _you_ make it happen, Mortimer. If you want things to get better, _you_ have to do something about it." There was a long silence, and then Mortimer broke away and ran from the gym. Felix stood and watched him go, listening to the slapping of his bear feet and the heavy thud of the door behind him. His shoulders slumped.

"Oh Lord, I don't know what to do."

* * *

The next day, Felix puttered around the small storage closet, trying to find a ball that was actually still spherical. The boys had been working hard, and he thought a more light-hearted catch-and-toss drill might be a fun reward. Finally he withdrew an ancient red rubber ball that had managed to retain it's shape. He hefted it and brushed some of the dust off, then sighed. After last night, he didn't bear much hope that Mortimer would come to class. Maybe he'd been wrong to suggest it so soon. A memory came back to him, orange eyes burning with hope.  
_"I'm not gonna let them stop me, mum! If I can go to school like everyone else, then I should. It's only fair!"  
_  
Felix's free hand clenched. It wasn't right that this child, so young, was conditioned to fear. At nine years old, Marty had been cheerful and vibrant, comfortable with his own mutation, and secure in the knowledge that his family loved him. This Mortimer... it just wasn't right. Felix rubbed his eyes. Well, he would come back to the gym tonight, at least, in case Mortimer decided to continue the solitary lessons.

Felix extracted himself from the closet and started, nearly dropping the ball. Standing just behind him, an uneasy expression on his sallow, green face, was Mortimer. Felix slowed his breathing and smiled.

"I'm glad to see you, Mortimer. Are you going to come to my class?" A barely perceptible nod. "Excellent. I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Here, help me set up." As Felix cleaned sports oddments from the gym floor, Mortimer followed him like a silent green shadow, never more than a meter behind. Felix had to grin--only two days ago, the boy practically refused to let the monk approach him. He had just handed Mortimer a wooden bat when the gym door opened. The bat clattered to the ground. Felix turned just in time to see Mortimer scamper awkwardly for the safety behind the bleachers.

"Brother Fe--ah, Sensei?" It was Thomas, with a few of the other boys behind him. Felix glanced at his watch to find that he'd been running slightly late. He cast a last look at the shadows in which Mortimer crouched, hidden, and turned to face his other students.

"Ah, yes, boys. Come in. Come in and line up." He beckoned and fifteen or so of the boys filed in quickly. Felix set them to jumping-jacks, and then had them do slower stretches. As the boys practiced their woeful splits, Felix noticed an unusual amount of whispering among them. Several of the boys were poking one another and gesturing to the bleachers. Felix apprehensively followed their gaze. Still halfway in the shadows, Mortimer was doing his best to slide into a split. He stared at the rest of the class with uncharacteristic defiance, although his shoulders still hunched protectively around his ears.

"D'ya see 'im?"  
"Wossee doin' 'ere?"  
"It's th' Toad."

Felix had enough of the whispers.  
"Attention!" The students scrambled to stand up, still shifting and casting confused and hostile glances in the direction of the mutant boy. Felix gestured to Mortimer, who hesitated for a moment, then came forward, his eyes darting wildly. "I'm sure that most of you know Mortimer. He will be joining our classes." At his side, Mortimer stood warily with his hands behind his back.

"Eh, 'e's too stupid ta be in a class. Everyone knows that," a boy Felix recognized as Halbert said loudly. His statement was met with muted snickering and murmurs of agreement. Felix saw Mortimer sink into a half-crouch--to make himself smaller or to attack, Felix wasn't sure, but he put a hand on the boy's shoulder to stifle any rash action.

"I don't believe that he is, Mr. Halbert," said Felix coldly. "And you will not forget that while in this dojo, you will treat your fellow classmates--all of them--with respect." He turned. "Mortimer, why don't you go line up with the rest of the boys," he said in a softer tone of voice. After Mortimer had found a spot somewhat removed from the other boys, Felix addressed the rest of the class, and began to teach them their first kata.

* * *

Felix smiled and hummed to himself as he made his way back to the gym for an extra session with Mortimer. After the class, he had asked the boy if he still wanted to continue solitary classes as well, and had been pleasant surprised by the eager, hungry expression in the boy's eyes when he nodded vigorously. Things were starting to work out even better than he had planned them; in addition to being about to help the mysterious mutant boy he had heard about, Felix felt that he had gained a star pupil, a student who would not just learn to copy what he was taught, but how to treat what he learned as an art form and to truly embrace it. It felt good.  
He was halfway to the gym. when he heard the scrunch of small shoes on gravel running up behind him.

"Brother Felix, Brother Felix!" Thomas ran up, panting. Felix turned. "In the...east dorms...they're...gonna kill 'im..." the boy wheezed. Felix didn't waste any time asking who; he sprinted to the dorm entrance and bounded up the stairwell. As he raced down the hallway, he could hear dull thumps and shouting.

"Fink yer good enough t' be in classes like the rest o' us?" A thud. "Wot, y'fink yer human now or somefin?" Another, followed by a small grunt of pain. "Y'stinkin', green mutie." Coherent words gave way to a babble of muffled expletives and shouts. Felix reached the room where the sound was coming from and slammed the door open.

"RYANS! HALBERT!" he thundered furiously. The two boys leapt out of their skin and whirled around guiltily. Three other boys that Felix didn't recognize were also crowded around a trembling figure curled up on the ground. "Mother of Mercy! What in God's name do you think you're doing?" He advanced on them, trembling with rage. There was a clamor behind him.

"That's quite enough everyone!" The abbot and another monk were trying to get into the room. Felix didn't even turn to face them. His eyes never left the fetal figure and his tormentors. "Brother Felix, I...ah..._what_ exactly, is going on?"  
"I just came up here to find these boys abusing a fellow student, Father Abbot."

"I...see," said the abbot slowly. He and the other monk walked further into the room. "Of course you know you will be punished most severely for this," he said to the boys, a little less sincerely than Felix would have liked. As the bullies were lead from the room, Felix got the impression of children being scolded for throwing rocks at a stray dog, instead of for beating a fellow human being within an inch of his life. The abbot turned to Felix once they were gone.  
"And the, ah..."The old man's eyes flickered towards the cringing boy.

"Mortimer. I'll take care of him," said Felix shortly. "Father Abbot," he added belated. There was the briefest of pauses from his superior, before the old priest nodded and followed the punished children, leaving Felix and Mortimer alone in the dim room. Felix rushed to the boy's side, angry tears stinging his eyes at the damage. Whatever color the mutant child's skin, he bled red, and there was more than enough proof of that staining his clothes and the floorboards around him. His face was covered with blood, snot, tears, and spit, and he whimpered quietly through clenched teeth as Felix picked him up, gentle though the monk was.

Felix carried the boy to the monks' bathrooms on the first floor and carefully removed his blood-stained clothing, noticing even through his mechanical motions how thin and underfed he seemed. He lowered the boy into the only tub and began running a warm bath. Mortimer remain curled up, shuddering and sobbing quietly. Felix wet a washcloth and began gently sponging the worst of the blood and grime from the boy's head and face.

"Shhhh...shhhh, Mortimer. It's okay now. You're safe," he whispered soothingly, and continued to murmur calming nonsense until the boy's sobbing had faded away to the occasional soft hiccup. Felix took this time to examine the damage done. His face darkened at the many deep purple bruises already blossoming on the boy's side and back, and noticed worriedly that he was cradling his right hand to his chest. He softly wiped away the remaining tears from the boy's eyes and lifted his head so their gazes met.

"It's going to be okay, Mortimer. You're safe now. I won't ever let that happen again. Do y'hear me? I'll protect you--I promise." Gold eyes met blue eyes, and for the longest time, neither moved. Then all of a sudden, Mortimer flung his arms around Felix's neck and buried his face in the monk's robes.

"Sensei..." he sobbed. Felix put his arms around the boy and held him until they both stopped crying.

* * *

Well, there we go. Some progress at last. Felix was bugging me while I wrote this. He just seems way too emotionally involved in a kid he just met, which seems to suggest to me that Felix has some transference issues that don't exactly scream stable and calm like I thought he was. Ah well. Eventually the whole bit behind Marty will probably come out, and then maybe all of this will make sense.

Or not.

...And to anyone freaked out by the bath scene...0.o; Deal. Mort's a kid here. And there is none of _that _going on. Savvy?


End file.
